Page 105 of The Favourite
“I have already told you my terms for proceeding,” he reminded her, stifling a yawn.
“You are impossible!”
“I am waiting,” he corrected her, inspecting his immaculate fingernails.
Jane heard approaching footsteps. “You—! You have vastly beautiful thighs, my lord,” she choked out furiously. “Now can we, please, continue on to the Queen?”
Afterward, it did occur to Jane that he might have been deliberately provoking merely to distract her from her nerves. It was true that she was still in a high dudgeon when they had sailed into the Presence Chamber. Alisander did not so much as pause for the guards there, as though there could be no question of their welcome therein.
Jane had still been flushed from their exchange in the corridor, no doubt her eyes over-bright with annoyance. In truth, she had felt more ready for an argument than to pay her respects to her sovereign. She heard her new title announced and made a deep curtsey beside her husband. Then he escorted her to the side of the room.
The Queen made no inclination from her throne that she was desirous of Jane approaching her, so instead, Jane turned to face the oncoming drifts of courtiers, who were approaching two or three at a time. The first of which were her previous roommates, Osanna and Patience.
“Jane!” they exclaimed in hushed but excitable tones. “We were wondering when you would make an appearance!”
“We did ask your husband,” Osanna said lowering her voice, for Alisander was making desultory conversation now with Lord Wrothby.
“But he was not forthcoming,” Patience concluded. “He does like to cultivate an air of mystery, does he not?” She sounded faintly resentful of the fact.
“How was the country?” Osanna asked hastily. “And your sweet little baby?”
Jane fought down her instinctively awkward response. “Our child is quite well, I thank you, and Kinnerton will be more inviting in the spring, I am sure.”
“We have found a taker for your old room,” Patience confided. “You will never guess who.” When Jane looked blank, she launched into an account of a falling out between Lucy Melvin and Estrilda Rheinholdt, which had necessitated one of them changing living quarters.
It was a convoluted tale, many of the finer points never being fully explained and consisting of such vagaries as “Lucy maintained that the hair comb was already cracked,” and “Of course, strictly speaking, the lock of hair did not really belong to either of them.”
Afterward, Jane could not even have said precisely which of the maidens was now residing in her old room, for halfway through the epic retelling she glanced at the Queen and found her staring at her intently. Jane smiled and bobbed a curtsey, then determinedly focused on whatever it was Patience was twittering on about. Or, at least, giving an appearance of it, for by this point, she was hopelessly lost in the narrative.
She only had to wait for three minutes when a discreet cough sounded behind her. Turning, she found the Queen’s favorite squire, Piers Winstanley, hovering politely. Really, the boy was getting ridiculously tall. “The Queen would like a word, Lady Bardulf,” he said with a pleasant smile. Jane excused herself from Osanna and Patience, who exchanged meaningful glances, and followed Piers back to the dais.
“Ah, there you are Jane,” the Queen said breezily, holding out her jeweled hand. Jane duly curtseyed. “Approach, approach, I hardly think we need stand on ceremony here.” She turned to Mistress Bartree. “Magnatrude, perhaps you could look into that little matter we discussed earlier.” Magnatrude Bartree looked rather blank at this request but curtseyed all the same and retreated with dignity.
“You are looking well, Jane, I think,” the Queen said, looking her up and down critically. “I see the evidence of your husband’s hand upon you, but it is subtle. He is clever enough to enhance rather than deter from your essence.”
Jane started to color at the mention of “evidence,” her hand flying to her bosom where she knew there lingered some tell-tale signs of Alisander’s attentions. Of course, she thought relaxing, once her fingers landed on the heavy beading, nothing was on view. The Queen was just referring to her new style of clothing.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, dropping her hand, her composure returned. “Lord Bardulf has proved a most generous spouse.”
“That is quite a necklace,” the Queen agreed, eyeing the amethysts at her throat. “He has always had a good eye for jewels, that one. You do not find the price you must pay too onerous?”
“The price?”
The Queen gave her a wry look. “I refer, of course, to the keeping of a husband.”
“Oh.” Jane considered a moment with a thoughtful frown. “Well, it comes with its own attendant challenges,” she admitted, and the Queen’s lips twisted into a wry smile.
“Indeed, it does,” she agreed, her gaze skittering away to dwell on the far side of the room. “And how are you finding motherhood?” Her words were cool. “The child is well, I trust?”
“She thrives.” Jane kept her expression carefully neutral. “Though, I could not be easy leaving her in the country. We have brought her to the palace with us.”
The Queen’s eyebrows shot up, but she made no comment on this. “Where is your husband anyway? At least he is not one of those that hovers. Some of these knights …” She shuddered eloquently. “You can hardly be rid of their hulking, great presences when their wives are in attendance.”
“I make no mention of names,” she added darkly, “but really, some of them are quite insupportable! There is a time and a place, my dear Jane, for husbands; I am sure you agree. At least you will not suffer the indignity of having yours always underfoot.”
Jane half-turned toward the drifting crowd in the Presence Chamber. You could hardly miss Alisander, she reflected wryly, not in that outfit. She could only suppose the Queen was making a sly dig about him not dancing constant attendance on her like a devoted spouse would. “Quite,” she said simply. “He is over yonder talking with Lady Wymarka Kloch.”
“Dear Wymarka,” the Queen mused. “She is very attractive, is she not?”
